In the Land of the Long White Cloud

were your child.”
    James kissed her lightly on the mouth, as softly and calmly as only Lucas had ever done before.
    “I wish you luck, Gwyn. I wish you happiness.”

    Gwyneira wept without stopping once James had gone. She watched him from her window as he rode away over the fields, the little dog in front of him on the saddle. He turned toward the highlands. Or was he taking her shortcut to Haldon? It didn’t matter to Gwyneira; she had lost him. She had lost both men. Aside from Fleur, there was only Gerald and this cursed, unwanted baby.

    Gerald Warden did not broach the subject of his daughter-in-law’s pregnancy, not even when it became so obvious that anyone could tell at first glance. Thus the question of delivery was not discussed. No midwife was brought to the house this time, no doctor consulted to check on the course of the pregnancy. Gwyneira herself tried to ignore her condition as much as possible. Up until the last few weeks of her pregnancy, she rode the most spirited horses and tried not to think about the birth. Maybe the baby wouldn’t survive if she did not receive the help of a specialist.
    Contrary to Helen’s expectations, Gwyneira’s feeling toward the baby had not changed over the course of her pregnancy. The first stirrings of the new life, which she had greeted so enthusiastically for Ruben and Fleur, she did not even mention. And when the baby once kicked so hard that Gwyneira cried out, no remark on the obvious health of the unborn baby followed; instead, she just said angrily, “It’s bothering me again today. I just wish it were gone!”
    Helen wondered what Gwyneira meant by that. The baby would not just disappear when it was born but announce its rights at the top of its lungs. Perhaps Gwyneira’s maternal instincts would finally kick in then.
    Kiri’s time was approaching first, however. The young Maori was delighted about her baby and constantly tried to draw Gwyneirainto her joy. She compared their belly sizes and teased Gwyneira that her baby may be younger but was certainly much bigger. Gwyneira’s belly was indeed enormous. She tried to hide it, but sometimes, in her darkest hours, she feared that she was carrying twins.
    “Impossible!” said Helen. “Matahorua would have noticed that.”
    Even Rongo Rongo laughed at her mistress’s fears. “No, there’s only one baby in there. But beautiful, strong. No easy birth, miss. But no danger. My grandmother says it will be a gorgeous baby.”
    When the pains set in for Kiri, Rongo Rongo disappeared. As an ardent student of Matahorua, she was, despite her youth, much sought after as a midwife and spent many nights in the Maori village. This time she came back toward morning, looking pleased. Kiri had given birth to a healthy girl.
    Just three days later, she showed her baby off proudly to Gwyneira.
    “I her name Marama. Beautiful name for beautiful baby. Means ‘moon.’ I bring her with me to work. Can play with baby from miss!”
    Gerald Warden would surely have his own opinions about that, but Gwyneira did not comment on the remark. For a while now, Gwyneira had no longer found it difficult to defy her father-in-law. Gerald generally ceded ground silently. The power relations on Kiward Station had shifted without Gwyneira’s really understanding why.

    This time no one stood in the garden as Gwyneira lay in pain, and no one waited anxiously in the salon. Gwyneira did not know whether anyone had informed Gerald of the imminent birth and would not have cared either way. The old man was probably spending another night with a bottle in his room—and by the time it was over, he would no longer be capable of comprehending the news, regardless.
    As Rongo Rongo had predicted, this birth did not go as smoothly as Fleurette’s. The baby was considerably larger—and Gwyneira was unwilling. With Fleurette she had yearned for the birth, hung on the midwife’s every word, and striven to be a truly shining example of motherhood. With this birth, she let everything happen to her in astupor; at times she bore the pain stoically, at others with defiance. The entire time, she was plagued by the memory of the pain under which this child had been conceived. She thought she could feel Gerald’s weight on top of her again, that she could smell his sweat. Between the pains, she vomited several times, felt weak and beaten down, and finally cried out in anger and pain. By the end she was totally drained and wanted nothing more